A Rose By Any Other Name
by Catherine Antrim
Summary: the long awaited sequeal to I am Satine, beautiful, talented and modestly lost. Satine's return from the grave to show christian her estranged daughter. CHAPTER 7 IS UP! Plase read and review!
1. I'll tell you how the sun rose

A/N - this is the promised sequel to "I Am Satine, Smart, Beautiful and Modestly Lost." If you haven't read that, you can still read this but I still advise that you read "I am Satine" not only because it is a fabulous piece of work, haha, but because it will add insight to this story. Also in I Am Satine her daughter was named Nadine but I changed it to Juliet. Being the author I get to do stuff like that.

Disclaimer- now that I'm done flattering myself I'd like to deflate my head and say I don't own anything worth owning let alone Moulin Rouge. I do own a lot of shoes but I paid for them. Stealing isn't cool. I wrote this poem. Aren't I cool? Ok I'm shutting up now.

* * *

We kissed in the rain once. It washed away my makeup and caused his hair to fall moistly into his face. His lips were both powerful and soft as the pressed against mine. I don't remember much anymore, but I'll never forget that kiss.

I don't know who he is. My mind decays like the soil around me. He had green eyes that lit up when he smiled and his hands were soft and warm. That was more important then his name. I have no idea who I was.

Death is a cold, lonely eternity. Days, years, months, maybe centuries past. The only thing that me kept from fading away completely like everyone else was the memory of that kiss.

One not so important day I was trying to remember my name, because I thought perhaps then I could escape, when I heard an all too familiar voice whispering in my ear.

"Satine" it sobbed. It was a harsh, cracked voice, not like I remembered it. But it was unmistakable. I was suddenly flooded with memories.

I was sitting on a bed with satin sheets in a giant elephant. I was wearing a lacy black dress, it's collar leaving itchy lines in my neck. My hair was red again and thick. Beside me my green eyed man was sprawled scribbling something onto a piece of paper. I watched him lovingly and he looked up and smiled at me. Sitting up he kissed my jaw bone and I reveled in the sensation of having skin that felt. "I love you, Satine" he whispered.

Then I was a little girl, no more then seven or eight, playing in the yard of my father's house. I was in my Sunday dress but had pulled my bonnet of and the hot sun beat down on my exposed face. I rolled up my white lacy skirt and pulled off my new boots.

There was a little stream running through the yard, how could I have forgotten it? My toes ached as the cold water covered them. I reached out and grabbed for the green frog sitting moistly on a log. That was why I was here, of course. I tumbled into the water and soaked my best dress but I didn't care.

I emerged sopping but victoriously clutching the fat, green frog. I heard footsteps in the courtyard, my father. I realized only then what a mess I was. I dropped the frog, which quickly hopped back into the water, and tried to clean myself with an equally filthy handkerchief. My father stood at the gate. "Satine!"

Everything spun and I was in a room adorned with tinsel and holly and there was a candle lit tree sparkling in the middle of the room. I was hugely pregnant with my daughter; it was only a couple weeks before she was born. I was in Alice's house and it was Christmas.

Her children, Danielle, Pierre and Sadie were playing on the floor with their new toys and Alice was sitting next to me on her sofa in a soft pink dressing gown. She laughed and placed her hand beside mine on my swollen belly, feeling the unborn baby Juliet move. Alice's eye crinkled when she laughed. She removed her hand and passed me a present wrapped in red paper. "Merry Christmas Satine." she whispered.

Then I was naked in the arms of a stranger. I winced and let him have his way with me. I hated it. Every inch of my body was filled with such hatred that I though it would burst out of my skin and devour me. But instead I smiled and kissed the man, he smelled foul, like stale cigarettes and the fish market where he worked. His hands were cold and clammy as he felt me all over.

I let myself leave my body and I flew to a summer land where tropical flowers bloomed all year round and a water fall splashed in the distance. I had traveled here every time I was unhappy. It wasn't a real place, or at least no one I'd ever seen, and that's why I liked it. I didn't have to think about the smelly man or Alice's medical bills or Harold or the Moulin Rouge. But the man insisted on talking to me. He whispered my name. "Satine" it was foul on his dirty lips.

But his lips were replaced my soft, tender ones that kiss me gently on the lips. Fearful I pushed him away, remembering the other men who had kissed me.

"What's the matter? Did I hurt you?" I buried my face in my hands and cried. He'd never seen my cry before. I wasn't afraid of what he thought any more. I remember how scared I'd been the first time I faced him without make up. It was worse than being naked. But he wrapped his arms around me and I hid my face in his shirt. "I would never hurt you Satine."

Thousands of voices spoke my name, I knew now that it was mine. How could I have forgotten who I was? Then I was there, beside my own grave. Christian was there, not with flowers like any other mourning lover, but with a poem, messily written on a folded piece of paper.

I tried to touch him but my hand went right through him. I choked and called his name but he only shivered with the sudden gust of cold wind. He pulled his coat tighter around him against the cold and walked slowly out of the cemetery, wiping his watering eyes as he left. I looked at my cold granite headstone.

Satine Mary Desmereges

1874-1899

That was all that remained of me here on earth, a name and some numbers. I looked at the hard ground which had once held me prisoner and saw a piece of paper. I reached down and picked it up. A poem was written on it in Christian's hand writing.

I couldn't make out the words anymore, they looked like lines and foreign symbols. I didn't even remember what language it was. I looked lovingly upon the familiar though meaningless marks and blinked. I knew if the dead could cry that I would be. I looked up and saw Christian's retreating back just outside the iron gates of the graveyard and I decided to follow him.


	2. Wonderland

Chapter 2

Janice - what exactly is Beta reader? I'm open to the idea. And as for her switching for first person in the end, what can I say, I'm an idiot. I fixed it. Also I'm going through my I am Satine story, so you might find it easier to read when I'm done.

* * *

Thirteen year old Juliet sat in a corner of the living room of her grandfather's house, shyly watching her cousins from the top of her book. Louise, who was fourteen, was knitting, and Pierre who was sixteen, was holding the yarn and unrolling it for her. Danielle, Pierre's twin sister, was practicing piano. It was a rainy, irratable sort of day and tensions were running high. They'd been living with their grandfather since the news of her Aunt Alice, mother to all her cousins, death. Her uncle Louis had been "in a state of discomposure" since.

Juliet didn't think much of Danielle's playing but she didn't tell her that. She liked Danielle best of her cousins and didn't want to hurt her feelings when she was working so hard. She could tell by the way Louise was clicking her needles and biting her lip that it was taking all her self control from showing Danielle how to do it properly. Louise always knew how to do everything best but since Danielle was the oldest she had to be respectful. So she vented her annoyance on an easier victim; Juliet.

"Are you reading Alice in Wonderland AGAIN." she rolled her eyes. "God you must have read it a thousand times. Look the cover's falling off." Juliet bit her lip and didn't say anything. Her book was the only thing left that linked her to her mother. True the cover was falling off and the pages were wrinkled but there was a small note on the first page of the book that said is a thin spidery script.

Christmas 1890

Dearest Juliet,

Growing up this was my favorite book, I know you're too young to read it now but maybe grandpa will read it to you or you can read it yourself when you're older. I miss you everyday and I hope to see you soon.

Love Mama

Juliet had read it so many times that she had memorized it though she had never shown it to her cousins. Unaware Louise had stepped onto off limit territory. To her own horror, Juliet felt her eyes growing wet.

"Leave her alone, Louise, we're all tired of being stuck indoors, no need to bother Julie," said Danielle. She had stopped playing and turned around to face Louise. Juliet could see a row coming on. When the sisters decided to fight there was little one could do to stop it. So Juliet pulled her legs up to her chest, reading her book and trying to ignore them.

"If you'd stop playing that dratted song over and over maybe I'd actually be able to knit!"

"Thanks a lot Louise; I don't bother you when you play!"

"That's because I know how to play," said Louise coldly. She sat at the piano bench and played flawlessly, without looking at her hands, the entire song that Danielle had been struggling with all day. Danielle blushed for there is nothing worse than being out done by your little sister.

"You played it to fast and this note is E sharp, not E flat." Said Danielle, still keeping up the haughty older air.

"There is no such thing as an E sharp," said Louise. "Just give up Danny." Ashamed and beaten Danielle left the room, slamming the door behind her. Louise wasn't done yet. She turned again to face Juliet.

"Why don't you do something useful Juliet? All you ever do is read! You're a burden." Louise looked shocked that she had said that and suddenly was quiet. She knew she'd gone too far. Juliet looked wounded and headed upstairs after Danielle. Louise sat down next to Pierre, taking up her knitting again. Pierre looked at her uncomfortably.

"I'm tired; I think I'll go to bed Louise." He said softly.

"Now you're mad at me too?"

He didn't answer her question just said simply, "good night, sister," leaving Louise alone to bite her nails and wish she could control her temper.

* * *

The next morning Juliet woke to the smell of food and opened her eyes to find her favorite breakfast on a tray beside her bed. There was a steaming plate of waffles with jam and milk and even a rather old looking orange which was never the less a special treat in the middle of winter. Juliette grinned and wondered who could have given her such a treat. She was halfway through when Danielle came bounding in slippers and a bathrobe.

"Someone brought you breakfast too!" she exclaimed. "Only mine was better, bacon and eggs."

Juliet wrinkled her nose. She hated eggs.

"Pierre had crepes. I wonder if there was some for Louise before she left."

"Where did she go?"

"It stopped raining early this morning and Rosa said she took off before the sun was up."

"Danielle, do think Louise could have done this for us?" Danielle bit her lip thoughtfully.

"That's an idea, it would be nice of her after yesterday-" Juliette glanced at her Alice and Wonderland book and realized it was nearly a foot away from where she had put it last night. She picked it up and examined and found that the cover was no longer falling off. Someone had sewn it back on with small, even, stitches. Danielle stitches were sloppy and big and Pierre couldn't sew to save his life. It had to be Louise.

* * *

Mr. Desmereges sipped his tea slowly, trying to calm his shaken nerves. He sighed and folded his unread newspaper. He had had, yet again, a disturbing dream last night. His sleep had been haunted for months. He lay back and tried to remember his dream. The harder he tried the more it slipped away, like water cupped in his hands.

Quite suddenly his thoughts changed directions to happier times. He remembered a day, nearly a quarter of a century ago, when Alice had been a toddling babe and his wife Mary was still alive. She had been beautiful, even when hugely pregnant. She had pink cheeks and golden hair. She was almost the spitting image of Alice except her eyes which were Satine's intense blue. He saw her sitting across the table from him, drinking tea with one hand on her stomach. She smiled and set down her tea cup. The tiny Alice was perched on her mother's knee and Mary played with the girls pale curls.

"Aren't you proud?" She said. There was a knock at the door and his wife disappeared. She was dead, after all.

"Martin, get the door."

The elderly Butler entered leading a man in a faded coat. The man was tall, with big, haunted eyes. Mr. Desmereges had never, in his waking life, laid eyes on this man yet he knew him immediately.

"Where is Satine?"


	3. Amid eternal snows

Thank you to Janice, Diamonte Saber and Scribblers Hands.

Janice- thank you so much for all your help. Yes I'm going to develop Juliet more. Some characters take work to develop while others (like Louise) just jump into the story. Juliet is quieter and that, for me, is harder to write. I'd love to have you as a beta if you don't mind. Thanks.

Author's note : If you read the second chapter before I edited it then you missed the last few paragraphs about Mr. Desmereges so you should go back and read them. I apologize for this chapter, my heater broke and I haven't slept in ages. All I can really think or write about is being cold and tired.

* * *

_Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost,_

_And like a ghost she glimmers on to me_ -Tennyson

As the wind howled outside Christian returned to his empty garret and got into the cold bed. He shivered and coughed, deathly tired but also too frozen to sleep. He lay for a while, remembering. He tried to remember the summer but the harder he tried to more it slipped away.

He knew that Paris once had been warm and beautiful but in the winter everything turned grey and iced over.

We do not mourn when summer dies and winter sets in although it is a bitter loss. Like Satine it was once so vivid that it seemed impossible that it would ever fade. While the snow will melt and the trees will bud Satine will never return. Christian sobbed tearless into his pillow. His eyes had run dry after all the time he had spent in tears.

He must of fallen asleep eventually for he dreamed. Satine was there and he mouth was moving wordlessly and she was crying, although she too had no tears. He had dreamed of her a thousand times but this was different. In all his other dreams she was happy and unreal but this was so real he could almost touch her. He called he name but he couldn't reach her. Finally he heard a voice although he couldn't tell if it was in his head or coming from her.

"She's in London. Go to her."

"Satine!" He yelled his voice cracking. "Satine!"

Christian sat up as he awoke suddenly to a particularly fierce gust of wind shook his garret. He wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and got out of bed. Glancing at the pocket watch one his bedside table he noted it was only five in the morning. Although he knew it was impossible, his pillow smelt like Satine's odd musky perfume.

The voice was still echoing in his head. London. She's in London. He had previously thought of leaving Paris, maybe even going home to London but that required money and effort he had lost all motivation to live. But now he had a reason to go to London.

Suddenly hit by inspiration he ran to his over flowing desk and pulled crumpled pieces of typewriter paper and tear stained pages of bad poetry aside until he found a what he was looking for. Heavy heartedly he put the battered envelope in his pocket.

Christian pulled a battered trunk out from his closet and shoved a few dirty clothes in it as well as some wrinkled papers. Lastly he packed away his dusty typewriter. Having done that he lumbered into the only other room in his garret, the bathroom where he inspected himself in the cracked mirror. He found himself facing a stranger.

His eyes were blood shot from too little sleep and too much alcohol and his skin was pale and sunken. He ran some cold water through the chipped pipe and washed his face. Then he took his rust razor from the soap dish and shaved his beard for the first time since Satine's death.

Then he dried his face and collected his bags, heading out into the freezing Paris street. It was still early, the sun was just peeking over the horizon and save a few people the city was deserted. His shoes clicked as he walked through the eerily quiet avenues. He reached the train station just as they were opening the gates.

"I'd like a one way ticket to London." He said firmly to the groggy old man in the booth. He collected the money, rubbing his eyes as he stamped the ticket. Christian paid with money from a faded envelope from in his breast pocket. He remembered his mother's words as she handed it to him nearly a year ago.

"Just in case."

He thanked the man and took his ticket. He walked through the station and sat silently on a bench, waiting for the train. It wasn't until he was on the train that the absurdity of what he was doing hit him.

He must be crazy. He'd spent the last if his money. He had left his garret because a dead girl in a dream had told him to. He had no idea where to go in London, he didn't even know who Satine had been talking about. He wondered if he had finally gone mad and for some reason found the idea comforting.

As the train arrived in London, he realized he was home.


	4. When the wind blows

Chapter 4

Disclaimer- I don't own anything. Ever. End of story. I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while.

* * *

Louise sat on a bale of hay in the poorly heated stable. She was doing something that the others had teased her about when they had found her last time, and that was talking to Snow White, the old white carriage horse. Louise had, when she was small, always conversed with animals but now, being the respectable age of fourteen and a half, she only did it on most dire of occasions, such as after a fight with her sister.

On this cold, February morning she had arose before even the servants and snuck down to the stable, her coat pockets stuffed with sugar for Snow. Louise shook the real snow out of her rust colored hair, which sometimes curled and sometimes was straight and on unfortunate days like today chose not to be tamed at all. Sometime last night the cold rain had changed to snow and turned the world white

"Ya know Snow; I wish sometimes I wasn't good at anything. Is it bad to say I'm more talented then them?" she looked at the horses steady brown eyes. "I don't say it with pleasure; I mean it's a bad thing. It just sounds so stuck up. I wish Danny would listen and Julie would talk." Snow snorted and Louise fed her sugar from her pocket. "I wish Pierre would be my best friend like he used to. He tries so hard to be the big kid. I don't think I ever want to grow up Snow... except not growing up would surely be far worse." Snow nuzzled her. "Would you still do that if I didn't bring you sugar?"

It was because of Louise's early morning escapade that she was the first to see the man approaching the house. She heard the distant crunching of boots on snow and had ventured into the silent frozen world to see who it was. She observed with interest a dark haired man, rapt in a thin black coat, walking with uncertainly up the front walk. Louise considered approaching him but decided she'd rather watch and see what he was up to first.

Silently she crept through the sugar frosted bushes, stepping so lightly her boots barely left footprints in the fresh snow. She heard Martin, the butler, let the mysterious stranger in. Nosy as ever, Louise ran to the back entering the house through the servants' door. She sped through the clattering kitchens, servants shouted at the familiar red head who so often snuck in for food or simply as an escape from the 1incesense of everyday life.

Louise flew through the dining room and listened through the key hole of one of the great white doors. She heard footsteps, low voices and then her hair stood on end, she heard her name. Her real name. No one had used it since she was very small, but it was her name never the less.

"Where is Satine?" said her grandfather's voice, tight with fear. For a second Louise was filled with confusion. She was right here... but her grandfather had never called her Satine. Then she realized it wasn't her who he was talking about, it was her aunt, who she was named for. The response was too low and gruff for her to pick up but it wasn't necessary. Her grandfather's reaction was quite audible.

"No! She can't be... not after Alice..." Louise heard someone coming behind her. She spun around to see Juliet in a night gown and pink slippers.

"What's going on?" She said, her grey eyes heavy with confusion.

"Er..." Louise said, glancing from the door to her cousin.

"Lou, I'm sorry we fought yesterday." Juliet wrapped her thin arms around Louise.

"It was my fault; I've got such a bad temper. I didn't mean that stuff." Louise said returning the hug.

"I know, I forgive you." Louise bit her lip. She was certain that now wasn't a good time to tell Julie what she had just heard it the other room. Louise wasn't sure what was going on she doubted it could be good.

"Who's grandfather talking to in there?" Louise hesitated.

"I'm... I'm not sure."

"Well what are they talking about?"

"Er... I don't know."

"Louise, I saw you listening. Just tell me ok?" Juliet was close to whining, one of her most annoying habits that only those who knew her best even noticed.

"Ok... well don't get mad... they're talking about your Mum." Juliet took only a few seconds to recover from this new.

"And what are they saying?"

"I'm not actually sure," Louise said truthfully. Juliet nodded, feeling anger mounting inside her. Not just that it was about her Mum, also that she was left out and that it was never fun to be thirteen and forgotten. Juliet threw open the door, ready to throw a Louise-esque tantrum but the scene that faced her came as a shock. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

Her grandfather had his face in his hands and was presumably crying. The other man looked like he had already cried out all the liquid in his body. He was thin, sallow, and malnourished. His eyes were blood shot and baggy. He didn't look like the handsome young poet who had sung silly love songs on the roof.

Although he was disturbing, her grandfather's tears were more so. Juliet had never in her memory seen him cry although she knew men cried. They didn't cry in the novels she read but her uncle had cried when Alice died. Pierre had cried more times than her or Danielle, although Louise beat him. A man crying wasn't weak; it was noble, provided the cause for tears was noble. Knowing what a noble man her grandfather was, she knew the news wasn't good.

"What's going on?" They both ignored her. She said the only thing she could think of that would stop them ignoring her. "Please I know you're here about Satine... I mean... I guess my mother." The word mother tasted odd on her tongue.

"Juliet, this doesn't concern you."

Christian looked at her. He had thought nothing could surprise him by now but that the skinny child before him was her daughter... how? Juliet was too extravagant a name for this plain, frumpy girl. She clearly had none of her mother's beauty. Her hair was limp and mouse colored and her eyes a toneless grey. Her skin was speckled and blemished and her nose was small and flat. And the obvious question arose. Who was her father?

"Doesn't involve me? Well she is my mother, although she has ignored me my whole life. So I guess you could say this doesn't concern me. But it should." She had tried to sound as Louise like a possible, for when Louise spoke she got her point across. Instead she ended up sounding like a lost child. She was a lost child.

"Satine was your mother?"

"Yes. She still is my mother. You can't change these things or I'd have found a new mother years ago."

This time she sounded wistful. She didn't realize it until much later, but her deepest desire was to have a mother and a father and a little white house with lilies and begonias and a dog. This desire was so deeply imprinted on her that she didn't remember a time when she hadn't wanted it since she didn't know what it was like to not want it.

"Julie, sit down," he grandfather growled. Something in his voiced filled her with fear. She slowly lowered herself into a chair.

"There is something I need to tell you. This is Christian. He was the man you're mother loved. She... she died, last summer." He looked completely miserable and Juliet bit her lip. She ought to have felt something; after all, this woman was her mother. It was like hearing about wars far away, faceless people dying. She knew she should care, but she didn't. Looking at her grandfather she felt a hot anger rising inside her.

Juliet was sure that her grandfather probably loved Satine more than anyone else in the world but she had never written him, never visited, never looked back at the family she left behind. Instead she had found someone else to love and left her father to mourn her. Now Christian had come and rubbed in their faces. What right did he have to do this to them? Juliet wanted to hurt him, hurt her mother, hurt all these self centered adults who made her grandfather cry. Instead she stood up.

"Juliet, wait…"

"I'm going to my room."

"Juliet!" he called after her. She ignored him.

* * *

Dinner was an awkward affair. Pierre sat in the farthest corner from Christian, his face in the shadows. Danielle was acting professional like never before, measuring her food into exact portions before eating them. Mr. Desmereges was sweating so profusely he looked like he'd gone swimming.

Juliet had brushed her snarled hair and tied it in a bow and was wearing her best dress. She had an intense desire for Christian to like her, so it would hurt him more when she hated him. Juliet was not the kind of girl who had these mixed up feelings, and she felt as though she'd stepped into someone else's skin. Louise chose not to show up at all and Mr. Desmereges told the servants to make her come if she could be found.

Christian had washed his face and straightened his still dirty clothes. The result was that he looked twice as pale and his clothes looked twice as filthy. Juliet looked at him with distaste as he slowly and self consciously ate his dinner. He barely ate, she noticed, he didn't seem to be in the habit of having proper meals.

She found she had very little appetite as well. Mr. Desmereges was looking at his fork, seeming to have forgotten what it was for. Pierre was unconsciously cutting his meat into tinier and tinier pieces. Only Danielle ate much and Juliet was sure she was forcing herself.

Louise arrived halfway through, sulking and scruffy. Christian watched this miniature version of Satine walk briskly to the table, wearing her best sparkling diamond pout. _That's more like it_, he thought.

She wasn't as tall as Satine had been but she was well on her way. Her big hands and feet showed that she still would soon catch up to her infamous aunt. She had thick, red hair, the dark curls falling to her shoulder. She was slightly heavier set than Satine, but she lived in luxury and wasn't half dead from consumption.

The most noticeable difference between the two was their eyes. Satine's blue had been replaced by chocolate brown. Less original but still warm and charming. Louise lacked Satine's confidence but had an unconscious grace and didn't seem to realize her own beauty. None of her family seemed to feel she was anything special either. Living around Louise you forgot she was deathly gorgeous.

Juliet watched Louise enter with a sinking feeling. She saw how Christian absorbed Louise's ever move. Juliet's hate for Christian grew more and more but at the same time so did her curiosity. She couldn't imagine what her mother had seen in this cold, dirty man. He wasn't even attractive. She could feel the distance between her and her mother growing as she sat.

Louise ignored her food and continued to sulk. Christian still hadn't looked away. When Louise saw that she flashed him an unladylike smile from the corner of her mouth. Juliet scolded herself mentally for behaving as rude as her cousin. She picked up her fork with trembling fingers and began eating her meat. It tasted like sawdust and felt like lead as it slid down her throat. Still she ate. She even had a piece of pie that went down like led. She was beginning to feel ill.

After dessert Mr. Desmereges suggested some music and they all proceeded to the living room. When asked by her grandfather if she'd like to play her new piano piece, Danielle blushed and shook her head. Juliet clenched her fists as Louise took the piano seat and began to play.

Christian sat closest to her, his eyes closed; listening to the music like it was God's own Angels playing. Danielle watched from the couch with what she seemed to think was a polite expression. Pierre had taken a chair by the fire and was looking at Danielle with sympathy. Juliet was beside Danielle on the couch and could practically feel heat radiating off her. When Louise was finished Mr. Desmereges tried to make conversation.

"Where are you staying Christian?"

"I'm not sure; I was going to find a cheap hotel somewhere…"

"No need, we have many extra rooms. You can stay here as long as you need."

"Well…"

"Satine would have wanted it."

"Thank you."

"Tell us about Paris, Christian!" Demanded Louise.

"Paris… it's a beautiful city. I honestly didn't see much of it." Christian was clearly struggling. He looked at Louise as he spoke; his eyes grew misty as he remembered. Louise's eyes never left his face. "The Eiffel Tour it lovely, and the seine. But your mother was the most beautiful part."

"Satine was Juliet's mother." Danielle interrupted.

"What?" Christian looked up suddenly, his concentration broken.

"Not Louise's mother, Juliet's." Pierre spoke this time, looking fearfully at Danielle who was unconsciously on the edge of her seat.

"Yes… that's what I meant."

"Don't interrupt, either of you!" Louise said furiously. "Please continue Christian."

"Alright, well there is a revolution going on in Paris, soon it will come here too. It's full of artists, poets, dancers. Satine was an actress, a great actress. None of us had much money, but it doesn't matter, we live by our art." Louise was enthralled. And so began the Bohemian revolution in London.


	5. Stars open among the lilies

Disclaimer- I don't own Moulin Rouge, not even the video tape. My life sucks.

Thanks for everyone who reviewed, reviews rock my world. Special thanks to Janice, my amazing beta, who answered my desperate calls for help (at three in the morning...) and even reminded me ever so kindly that there was no NYC ballet in 1900. Where would I be without her?

With out furthur ado!

* * *

Chapter 5

Danielle woke up to the sound of someone retching it the next room. The sour smell was drifting in through the open door. For a second, Danielle thought it was her mother, on one of those days where Alice didn't get dressed until evning and drank only one sip out of each glass of water they brought her. Danielle remembered the designs the light made of the wall as it sifted though the curves of the hundreds of cups left in the living room. She used to trace them with her fingers, imagining they were angels. Danielle pulled on her dressing gown and didn't leave her room. She suspected it was Juliet, forcing herself to eat because Christian was there.

Danielle thought about how Christian's effect on all the Desmereges was painfully obvious from his first night there, although none so much as the effect he had on Louise. She listened to every story he told, her eyes a big a saucers. She spent hours locked in her room, painting pictures on her walls and scratching away poems in the diary she'd never used before.

She took to wearing only an ugly, shift-like brown dress that she'd had forever. She knit herself an outrageous striped scarf and stockings to match. She stopped brushing her hair, and it became wildly curled and strangely. She could be heard singing at any chosen time, in the kitchen, the garden although not the bathtub. She had also adopted a bohemian odor.

"I love Paris in the springtime! I love Paris in the fall! I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles! Ooh, I love Paris in the summer when it sizzles!" Danielle shook her head. Louise would get over it; she had done the same with Shakespeare, Beethoven, mid-evil England, Cleopatra, horses and the brown eyed boy next-door.

Christian had become gradually become a permanent resident at the Desmereges house, something Danielle and Juliet both resented. Danielle spoke to him whenever she had a chance, but she always sounded more cold and detached than she intended to.

Pierre was silent, but since he was Pierre, this was little change. He hadn't always been quiet, although both Danielle and Louise had always over powered him. When they were little he used to be the joker, making his sisters laugh and even his parents. But the older he grew, the quieter he became.

No one dared look in Pierre's eyes anymore. It was scary to watch him, because he was never just happy. There was always something holding him back. A memory, the crumpled papers on Louise's floor, remembering that he and his sisters are almost completely alone in the world. There was always something in the way.

If you caught it Danielle was sometimes just happy, when she'd forgotten everything to laughter. Louise is angry a lot, but she's happy a lot too. Even sad Juliet has the most beautiful smile. Alice was happy and she knew how to make others happy, but Alice was dead.

Danielle barely remembered Satine. She knew she had been very beautiful, just like her sister. She remembered her best when she wasn't trying to think about her. She'd be reading a book or playing piano and she'd see Satine out of the corner of her eye.

It wasn't the Satine she remembered, the round, smiling girl with a baby in her arms. The Satine she saw now was thin and dirty, more often than not it would just be Louise, watching her in that silent Louise-ish fashion. Haughty and proud yet utterly perplexed that people acted as they did.

Spring was coming in a whirlwind of flowers and picnics. Danielle loved spring more than any other season. She didn't join the others on the boats but took would accompany them with a novel or a sketch book.

Louise looked at her critically from the boat. She was the artist, as she had made clear many times, Danielle's sketches we text book and lacked her depth and color. Even Juliet, the notorious book worm, was too drawn by the fresh air to stay on shore.

Danielle knew for Juliet, spring meant two things, the first being ballet. When the roads cleared they would ride to the studio twice a week and Juliet would have her dance lessons. All the children had taken ballet when they were younger, even Pierre.

Danielle had been the first to give it up. She knew early on she didn't enjoy falling on her face. Pierre was surprisingly good, but Mr. Desmereges wouldn't have a sissy grandson, pulled him out. "The first boy in our family in generations and they're trying to make him a girl."

Louise was of course, the top of her class. She never practiced but she had been gifted. Surely a future in the Russian Ballet awaited her. But she was Louise, fickle and easily bored with the conformist moves in the ballet classes. Besides, they didn't have levels high enough for her at the studio anymore. She quit when she was twelve, still dancing at their recitals but never going to class. Juliet alone continued to really pursue it. She wasn't a swan like Louise but she worked at it. Danielle ventured downstairs to see Christian watching her leave in a carriage with her grandfather.

"Where is she going now?"

"Ballet lessons."

"Ballet!"

"Yea, she's been doing it forever." Danielle knew what he was thinking. Out of all of them, Juliet seemed the least likely to have any dancing talent. Danielle herself wasn't particularly graceful but she didn't trip over her own feet either. Juliet on the other hand was notoriously clumsy and prone to doing just that.

Danielle was saved from any further explanation when Louise came bounding into the room, her cheeks rosy from the heat. Christian immediately lost all interest in everything else. Rather annoyed for her cousin's sake, Danielle wandered outside.

The climbing roses had already sent their vines up the side of the veranda. Several buds could be seen. In no time at all, she was sure they would be heavy with white and pink blooms. These rose's always put Danielle in mind of her mother, who planeted them all over their old garden. These ones had been planted by her as a young girl. Danielle thought of her mother a lot these days.

If anything, Satine's death had brought her mother's death to the surface again. When Alice died, her body was brought by train. Danielle remembered how Louise had asked when she'd be better and Pierre had tried to explain that death was permanent. Louise had hit him, telling him not to lie. It took Louise a few months before she actually cried, even then not grasping the term of forever, only upset because there was no mother to put her hair in ribbons.

Louise had distanced herself from the others growing up, always ahead of them, never touching. Juliet had been the opposite, clinging to Danielle ever since, when she was little, literally to her skirts and as they grew older she was dependent on her cousin, shy and meek with out her on her side.

Danielle had hoped one of them would grow up to look like Alice, she had been sure that if this happened, she would almost have her mother back. As Juliet had clung to her, she clung to that through her childhood. But Louise was red headed and didn't have a drop of maternal blood in her and Juliet was silly and ugly. Looking back she realized her fantasy had been no more real than the monsters under Julie's bed.

Danielle didn't go to dinner, it wouldn't be required when Mr. Desmereges and Juliet were both gone. When night had fully fallen, she returned to sit on the porch. Pierre was waiting for her.

"I didn't feel like dinner either," he admit, with out being asked. Danielle looked rather surprised. Twins often can read each others minds, but Danielle and Pierre weren't those kind of twins. Pierre had always been closer to Louise when they were little, although lately he had avoided everyone. For him to answer her question before she asked it was an odd feeling.

Danielle took a seat beside him on the wicker rocker. She remember how when she was little her feet had dangled above the ground when she swung on it. Pierre seemed to be remembering too, for he was rocking absentmindedly.

"Do you remember mother much?" she asked suddenly. He looked at her with his impossible to read eyes.

"I'm not sure," he said slowly. "Sometimes I think I do, but I'm never sure if it's really her."

"Who else-" Danielle began. For the second time that night, he answered her before she could ask.

"You, Danielle."

Danielle sat rocking in silence. She wanted to hug Pierre for some reason, to tell him that she needed him to be there for her, but she knew she'd just embarrass him. He was far too old for hugs now.

"I'm going to bed." He said suddenly.

"Right." Danielle watched him go, unsure if she was tired. A carriage was coming up the drive. Not wanting to talk to either of the people in it, she decided she was indeed exhausted.

As she walked up to bed, Danielle caught a glimpse of someone very familiar though the half open door of the guest room. She stopped, her heart racing. With a mournful creak, she slowly pushed the door the rest of the way open, wanting to believe but not wanting to be let down again. She was being silly.

Her heart skipped a beat as she came face to face with a full length mirror. She stared into it and her mother stared back, with big tired eyes and blond ruffled hair, coming to comfort her after a nightmare, pale with the exhaustion that had killed her. Danielle shook her head. It was her own reflection, she had become her dream.


	6. the silence of astounded souls

Chapter 6

Author's note- See my website for this story here http/ been reading up on Mary-Sue's to make sure none of my characters turn into one. I was a little worried about Louise because she's been described as beautiful and perfect so much… how ever the whole point of Louise is that that sort of thing is relative. Just wait, that's all I can say.

I apologize for the oddness of this chapter…er… Merry Christmas?

* * *

_This is the silence of astounded souls_

Louise had never liked keeping a secret. Her face could be kept carefully blank, her eyes could be closed to hide her thoughts but her insides raged with fire. There had been a time when they had all gone to visit her great aunt in Winchester. All of them had dreaded it, for it meant their nice dresses would be brought out and their hair ironed in thick round curls. Their great aunts house smelt like peppermint and cologne and she always was eating sweets but never offering the children any.

One day when Louise was five, she found the box where the chocolates were kept and filled her pockets full of them. When she got home she found she was too ridden with guilt to eat them, knowing she would now go to hell. Plagued with guilt she crept from the house in the dead of night and hid them in the garden. Still she could not sleep. Grandfather still tells how she came to him crying, confessing her deed to him.

This was far worse than any silly candy, far worse than anything she had ever done in a life time of acting first and thinking later. Torn and aching she sought solitude, unable to stay around her family long without hating herself. Julie's innocence and Danielle's righteousness was more than she could take.

1_If in the morning you look up_

_Fake a smile and you sigh_

_Don't fear the future_

Escaping them had never been hard, especially in the growing spring. Left alone with her own thoughts was no less tormenting, but at least safe. Louise had been so looking forward to summer, but now she could feel nothing but paralyzing fear. Her dancing had grown clumsy, preoccupied and sore. Her muscles screamed against use but she fought them, she couldn't loose even against herself.

_In the years to come you'll learn_

She had once loved the blue-green of the stream and the moistness of the soil beneath the full sun. Now she let it go, holding onto memories made them no more real, Louise had learned long ago. All the memories of the young mother who had left her were returning though she had always tried to keep them away. Danielle thought she forgot. Louise wished it was so.

_I used to sit and watch the pouring rain_

_I used to wish to be back home again_

_I hadn't the strength then_

_I hadn't the chance to reveal it_

Her mother often spoke in her dreams, beautiful and unreal as a china doll. Juliet watched her turn in her sleep, silent outside the door, cat like. Her eyes seemed to glow yellow in the light from the swelling moon.

Juliet saw more things than she understood. She saw when Pierre slide extra sugar into his sister's tea, she saw Danielle cheating at cards and she saw grandfather unlock the room down the hall. Now she saw Louise's eyes become shuttered and the way she wrapped her arms around her body when she slept, a cocoon.

Juliet usually went to Danielle for answers, but these past months Danielle had been so scared and strained, Julie didn't want her to worry about her little sisters plight as well. Instead she pondered it on her own, something she wasn't used to.

_But it's all in your hands_

_It's all in your hands_

The more she though about it, the more she felt it was her mothers fault for leaving them. She couldn't relate to her own blood at all, the thought of leaving even her dolls alone still made her heart wrench.

_When do we begin?_

Louise wished she could be angry with Alice leaving, she knew Juliet was angry with her own mother, forgetting that they had all suffered. But now more than ever, Louise knew her mothers fate.

Locked in her room for hours she wrote letters and refused to let tears stain them. She knew they noticed her absence but she also knew they were used to her phases being like day and night. Sometimes she though she heard heavy footsteps and someone standing outside her door, listening to the scribble of her pen.

_Although you're so sad_

_Discover things never had_

_It makes you wonder_

_A life alone you'll learn_

Perhaps it was that odd Christian. Louise didn't pretend not to notice how he looked at her; she had been looked at in many ways through her short life and never missed one of them.

Juliet tried not to fret over this odd phase, tried to tell herself it was indeed a phase. Louise dressed in dark grey the night she snuck out, squeezing through the fence alone. Was it really so long ago that she had slide between the bars untouched? As she returned home drenched in white light she felt something growing within her. The life she was leaving behind was already splintering away to reveal something beautiful.

_When do we begin?_


	7. Summer flights

Disclaimer- Not much to say. I haven't updated in like a year, and for that I apologize. I have had writers block and decided updating some old stories might be the treatment. The lyrics at the beginning are from Guster.

* * *

_Yes I'm blue, but from holding my breath_

Louise's chest threatened to burst, her knees buckled beneath her supple body. She crouched among the tulle valleys made by her skirt, cursing the rustle of the fabric through clenched teeth. Something moved deep in her stomach, a flutter of life. For some reason that caused her throat to tighten more.

Girl's voices trickled in through the key hole, their tones as smooth as the dancers who spoke them. She heard Juliet among them, squeaking with excitement, so young. Louise felt her innocence leaving out the top of the dressing room.

Silence save the smooth melody of the piano fell over the auditorium. Back stage, Louise moved without noise, a phantom of muslin and silk. Through a gap in the curtains she caught a glimpse of pink silk slippers.

It was Juliet, moving with a pained expression on her homely face, sweat pouring over her brow. The ring of perspiration seemed a glowing crown in the electric lights.

Louise felt a sick regret creeping up her body as she left them. She had always been wrong here, too tall, too pretty, too vivid. She had resented it since she was young, her need to excel at everything, not to mention her ability to do so.

Still this had never been the solution she had envisioned for it. Sometimes she imagined dancing to Paris or even London, but that was in a hazy someday and she was a different Louise, an adult who would have no connections to the fears of a child.

Outside, she winced as the sunlight momentarily blinded her. The smelly streets of the small city were filled with people, well dressed ladies, boys in caps, men in top hats. Louise turned her back on all of them as she crept down the alley adjacent her. Louise pulled up her pink skirt to avoid the rotting garbage that littered the ground around her. On the other side of the alley the carriage was waiting for her. She climbed into the back, where her carpet bag was hidden.

Louise gave the driver the address. As they drove, she slid out of her Pointe shoes and into her oldest pair of boots.

As the carriage slowed, she peered through a crack in the curtains at the passing houses. Her own iron gates looked less formidable in the spring, when the creepers grew up the sides of them, covering the cold metal with pink blossoms. The impressive gardens were deserted today, as everyone had gone to watch the ballet.

Louise silently bid good bye to the house that had been her home most of her life. She had been outside more than any of the others, riding Snow White, wandering among the green and pink just thinking, hiding in the flowering bushes. When she was little, she had made doll forts there with Juliet and Danielle and waded in the little creek that ran through the willows with Pierre. Those days seemed now an eternity ago.

The next house was not so elegant or well cared for as her own. It was white and small but cozy looking. The carriage halted here and Louise began to sweat. Where was he? She was right on time and they'd been planning this for so long.

Louise finally grew impatient, climbing out of the carriage and heading up the drive. In back of the house she found a pile of small rocks and threw one at the window. A few moments later, the window was pulled open and a boy with dark hair looked down at her.

"Louise?"

"Where have you been, come on!"

"I don't know how to tell you this…"

"Just come, you can tell me on the way."

"That's just it."

"Nicholas?"

"I'm not coming."

Louise swayed on the spot, anger coursing through her veins. "Yes, you are actually, you're in just as much trouble as I am!"

"I am sorry…" but Louise would hear none of it. She turned toe on him and headed to the door of the house, banging her fist against the door. A matronly woman opened it, her mouth opening at the sight of this oddly dressed girl, so angry and beautiful.

"Mrs. Canby, there's something I need to tell you…"

* * *

Though they were only half way through the show, Juliet couldn't stop smiling. She thought her smile might fall off is she opened her mouth any wider. Everyone was clapping for her. Still grinning ear to ear, she ran off stage with the others to change for the second act. It was then something caught her eye, the backdoor to the theater was hanging open. 

Curious Juliet crept unnoticed over to it. Quiet as possible she slid out, just in time to see a slip of red hair and a familiar pink dressed figure slip into a carriage.

"Juliet?" said Mary, a dancer and one of Juliet's few friends. "Hurry we're on."

"My grandmother's name was Mary you know." said Juliet suddenly.

"You alright?"

"Mmm, I'm coming."

Juliet hesitated a moment, before hurrying after the other girls.

The show ended early, due to Louise's absence. Juliet alone seemed worried. The other dancers looked at each other with smiles that clearly said '_typical Louise'_. Juliet changed out of her costume and headed into the crowd. No one here seemed recognize her off stage, though they were all talking about how great her performance had been.

When she saw her family, Louise slid from her mind. Everyone was hugging her and telling her how wonderful she'd been. Pierre was there with a homemade card, and Grandfather gave her a small package, telling her to open it at home. Juliet slid it into her purse. Danielle had brought her a bouquet of fresh flowers from the garden, none of which were roses.

* * *

No one mentioned Louise as they drove home, Louise often disappeared and it was common practice to pretend it didn't happen until she returned, which she always did. 

There was a woman standing by their gate as the entered it. She looked at them for a moment before vanishing behind her hedge. Juliet had seen this woman before, and believed she was called Canby, but had never spoken to her. She ignored her gut, which told her something was going on, and joined everyone for champagne in the parlor.

Danielle lay across the sofa, which was pink and trimmed with white. She swished the yellow contents of her glass around, staring into its depth, for once not thinking about anything other than the bubbles.

No one much felt like celebrating, the fact was. Everyone was worried and no one was willing to verbalize it. Grandfather roared that Juliet's performance was the best he'd ever seen while clutching his cup so hard it broke. Danielle knew her grandfather was not the type of man who roared or broke glasses.

Pierre slapped Juliet on the back and she gave a fake laugh. Danielle watched them through her glass, they were distorted and yellow. Danielle coughed and was ignored. Christian seemed to be the only one who allowed his face to show his feelings. Danielle wondered if he knew how ugly he looked when he worried. He was generally a handsome man, but it seemed sometimes he forgot this. Danielle finished her glass in one swallow and decided to go outside.

She was feeling slightly tipsy and the heat did nothing to help. She lay beneath a tree, singing softly to herself. This was something she liked to do on summer days when she had drunk a bit too much and was feeling warm and lethargic. Her voice sounded different in the hot air, the June bugs seemed to sing along. Someone else was singing too, an oddly familiar voice. Danielle closed her eyes, she was certain this was a lullaby.

She awoke to someone touching her hair. Her vision was blurred, but she could tell the someone had red hair.

"Wheeze?" she said softly, using Louise's old nickname. She blinked. There was no one but Christian, standing several feet away with his hands in the belt loops of his pants. He came to sit beside her on the ground.

"Did you…" Danielle began awkwardly. It was a very awkward thing to have to ask someone. "Did you just touch my hair?"

Christian looked puzzled. "No, I was across the yard."

"Oh. It must have been the breeze." Danielle was feeling nauseous and not much like talking.

"Do you think it's odd that your sister just up and left like that?"

Danielle took a moment to think about her answer. Her temples were pounding and making it hard to concentrate. "It's not odd that she's gone really," said Danielle slowly. "She does this a lot. I don't know why Grandfather permits it. I don't know if he could stop it anyway."

"So why do you look so worried," said Christian. He didn't say it unkindly but Danielle felt uncomfortable none the less. Christian was the sort of person who pointed things out when you'd prefer to ignore them. It was unsettling.

"Louise left at a performance. That's not like her at all. She usually would never miss a chance to show off. And she's been acting odd for weeks. I don't know if she's sick or plotting something or what but it doesn't make any sense," said Danielle suddenly. She didn't know why she had just told Christian that. She didn't much like him or even trust him but for some reason at the time it made her feel better.

* * *

Night fell and the yard was too cold to stay in. Juliet went to bed early but everyone else sat up late in silence. Louise didn't return. Grandfather sent one of the servants to fetch the police around midnight. No one slept as the waited for the news, which came with the sun. Louise had not been found. 

The peace of the morning was broken by the sound of glass crashing to the floor and on of the servants scream. Rose came in to the parlor, not with a tray of tea like she'd said but with a letter with its seal broken. Grandfather read the note twice, his face pale. Finally he looked up, his eyes shining.

"She's gone," he said, looking like he'd said the words before.


End file.
